Psych
by Kavery12
Summary: Starfleet likes to make sure that its star ship crews aren't literally going crazy. A psychologist visits both the Impala and the Enterprise with...surprising results.
1. Impala

I do not own Star Trek 2009 or Supernatural

It was supposed to be funny! It was supposed to go in _The Prank Defenders! _It ended up being…something else. Not depressing or angsty, but not exactly hilarious either. It probably belongs with _Snapshots from a Bar, _despite its lack of Amanda. An odd duck of a story.

Psych [_Impala_]

* * *

Dean frowned at the incoming text message from Jim Kirk. "The hell?" he muttered. A psychologist? Starfleet Command was issuing orders for several major ships to expect a surprise psychology spot check. _Enterprise_ had just finished theirs and judging from the verbose text message, Bones was pulling his hair out, Jim had schmoozed his way thorough it by flirting outrageously with the pretty psychology intern, Spock had barely passed as usual and the rest of the crew was killing themselves with laughter.

He glanced over at Sam, who was innocently fiddling with his control panel. "Sam," Dean called and sent the text message over. It was the highlight of Dean's morning to watch his brother read the message and then pale to match the polished white of his console. Dean knew exactly what his brother was thinking – how the hell did Sam make alpha shift seem sane?

Still, there wasn't a whole lot Dean or Sam could do. Starfleet said the captain wasn't supposed to inform anyone other than his first officer and CMO. He broke the news to Ellen in his ready room, alone on purpose.

Ellen had laughed until she was blue in the face. While he was trying to get her to be serious, the shuttle carrying their psychologist arrived.

To Dean's relief, the woman was in her late forties, comfortable and friendly with an open honest face. She didn't look like the sadistic type out to get his crew and she assured Dean she didn't need an escort. She'd just start in engineering and observe the ship, speak to who she liked.

Dean agreed, was polite and then escaped like a bat out of hell before it all went boom in his face.

* * *

Dr. Beth Dale was a veteran of Starfleet psychology. She had been picked to handle both the _Enterprise_ and the _Impala_ because she had managed to successfully corner Admiral Pike and Captain Gibbs for their evaluations without causing an interplanetary incident. And really, she didn't like to think of it as cornering. She just wanted to make sure that no one was suffering from any major psychological problems that would creep up on the insular star ship crews, depression being chief among them.

Still, she couldn't help a little tingle of apprehension. She'd left her student behind after poor Paula nearly ran away with a very attractive, magnetic Captain Kirk and _Enterprise_ had taxed Dr. Dale's considerable limits – a captain whose personality could easily be misinterpreted as narcissistic, a first officer who appeared emotionally constipated and a CMO who was abrasive at best. It had taken all of her expertise to see past the defensive fronts put up by an apprehensive crew. The _Impala_ crew was likely to have the same reaction. She really wished Starfleet would work towards making the mandatory psych checks less confrontational. At this point though, all she could do was lead by example.

She took a deep breath and plunged into the _Impala_'s engineering section.

* * *

_Commander Bobby Singer_

"Can I help you?" a salt-and-pepper haired man demanded, wiping his greasy hands on an equally filthy rag, hazel eyes sharp. This must be the chief of engineering, Commander Bobby Singer. A practical genius who learned through his own experience, the man had no family and from observing his interactions with the crew under him, would not pass any of Starfleet's most recent personnel policy exams.

He was rude, sparing with his words and didn't dish out affirmation like he should.

But she noticed that his safety regulations were stringent, his people worked in harmony and none of them exhibited resentment, anger or fear. Respect for their commander was instilled in every subordinate.

And the man was just plain interesting to watch. Instead of the usual overly technical, slightly hands-off approach most chief engineers took, he was covered in grease and no one bothered to stop and plan what they were attempting. If it didn't work, they just tackled the problem from another angle, often from square one.

"Can I help you?" Commander Singer demanded again.

Dr. Dale shook herself out of her thoughts and asked a deliberately explosive question. "Oh, I'm sorry. Wasn't paying attention. I just have a few questions for you."

Yep. There it was. Commander Singer froze up, eyeing her suspiciously.

* * *

_Dr. Ellen Harvelle_

Dr. Dale realized as soon as she walked into the infirmary she was going to have to lay it all on the line to get anywhere with Dr. Ellen Harvelle. The woman was a respected diagnostician, an excellent doctor and took no bullshit from anyone, be they an ensign, civilian or Captain Winchester himself.

Probably a necessity of the job, given who Dr. Harvelle was in charge of wrangling.

With the whole story laid out before the CMO, Dr. Dale sat back to watch emotion play across the woman's expressive face. Most CMOs were excellent judges of character and Dr. Harvelle would definitely be able to tell if she was lying.

Finally, Dr. Harvelle leaned forward, hand extended. "Pleasure to meet you. Care for a cup of coffee?"

* * *

_Lieutenant Luke Castiel_

The young man was a fascinating study and Dr. Dale was absolutely certain that if she dug far enough she would find several underlying issues that probably needed addressing.

However.

That was not her purpose here today.

Lieutenant Luke Castiel spoke highly of his friends, even higher of his captain and asserted that he was aware of his unique personality. He also said that his friends were all he needed to succeed in life.

He was frustratingly blank, hard to read. Dr. Dale was tempted to try and analyse him further. She loved a good challenge but again, she had to remind herself that she was just here to make sure he wasn't a danger to himself or anyone else.

And after she got the lieutenant going on his favourite subjects, she realized one could learn quite a bit from him. Stories spilled out after she established she wasn't here to remove anyone from duty. His deadpan delivery had her stifling giggles as he told yarn after outrageous yarn about the people he considered bigger than life – Captain Winchester and his brother, Captain Kirk, his best friend Ash, his second best friend Chekov.

She was privileged to hear of the camaraderie shared by a group of people who had picked up this lost little fledgling and helped him grow into someone so brilliant.

* * *

_Commander Ash_

After encountering Commander Ash, Dr. Dale had to resist the urge to pat herself down, ensuring that her watch and wallet were still with her.

He was clearly uncomfortable with the idea of a psychologist and tried to irritate her by stealing the stylus from her PADD, the PADD itself, his glass from the table, the little dish of candies put out in the rec room. She watched several other small items all vanish mysteriously from sight.

Someone had worked Commander Ash over, tried to take him apart psychologically in the name of her profession. Dr. Dale didn't like to see that sort of abuse ever and especially not in such a talented officer.

So she kept her questions gentle and ignored him when her old-fashioned pocket-watch vanished from its clip on her briefcase. The thought of those same light-fingered skills applied to her financial profile was more than a little terrifying and she started to seriously worry for the first time when the commander started discussing his current level of electronic access with gleeful relish.

But Captain Winchester walked by in passing and noted that Commander Ash had a suspicious lump in his back pocket. "Ash," the captain warned verbally, but his eyes were fixed on Dr. Dale, who let the glare roll off her with relief and took no offense. Sheepishly, the commander returned every item he stole with a repentant grin and Dr. Dale noted down a positive conclusion. Captain Winchester would keep Commander Ash from harming himself or others.

* * *

_Commander Jo Harvelle_

Commander Harvelle was almost disgustingly healthy when it came to her psyche and Dr. Dale couldn't help but wonder how exactly the young woman ended up on a ship of oddballs.

Then she asked the commander to tell her how many weapons she carried.

Dr. Dale had to reassess her initial conclusion after seeing the excited bounce Commander Harvelle gave her chair and rattled off a disturbingly high number with an enthusiastic offer to produce them all.

* * *

_Alpha Shift_

Dr. Dale decided to just ignore that whole problem and mark them down as…something. Anything. Perhaps she should have taken Lieutenant Castiel's advice and asked Commander Winchester to accompany her.

Alpha shift was disturbingly transparent. She had expected them to be all sorts of shadows and trickery, avoiding her and all her questions.

Instead, they took her on an enthusiastic tour of their entire deck. It consisted of, among other things, a rather illegal-looking still, an undoubtedly only quasi-legal explosives laboratory, an experimental robotics section (she was mildly disturbed by the remote-controlled life-sized facsimile of Captain Winchester half-assembled on one table. It looked almost exactly like the man and she didn't want to think about what they could do with such a thing) and a computer lab full of hacking programs capable of running havoc amongst the Federation.

Either they were just very engrossed in their work or they were eventually planning to take over the world. If they were planning the latter, Dr. Dale was going to make sure she was on their side. She decided to reserve a conclusion until she met their commander who, they assured her was very, very sane most of the time and only very, very crazy every now and then.

Surprisingly, she thought she could trust their observations regarding Commander Winchester. Not even one member of alpha shift had lied to her during their impromptu tour.

But she did _not_ want to know how they managed to animate the skeletal pterodactyl with glowing eyes that had chased her around Lab 4.

* * *

_Commander Sam Winchester_

The first officer of the _Impala_ was an enigma in many ways. Taller and stronger-looking than many but quiet-spoken for the most part, his big hand was gentle but firm when he greeted her. He invited her to sit beside him and watch as he worked.

And how he worked. She would have to put in a note to Captain Winchester to keep an eye on his brother, to make sure he didn't burn out some day.

In the forty minutes she spent watching him, he managed to iron out a tiff in alpha shift (which was good because the scientists involved happened to be fighting over an explosive compound. The fight, of course, was over whether or not the compound would blow a hole in the deck), recalibrate a very complicated looking string of data and field no less than four calls from an irritated diplomat who apparently had been slighted at a state dinner three days ago by Commander Harvelle.

She had heard that Sam Winchester stepped softly and carried a big stick, but she saw no evidence of the stick as he calmly talked the diplomat down to a grudging acceptance that perhaps he himself had been a bit hasty in judging the commander.

Then she was happily writing down her conclusions and walking away.

Dr. Dale jolted to a halt in the middle of the corridor, causing Commander Ash to swerve around her with a mild curse.

She hadn't been so smoothly brushed aside in years. Commander Winchester had just totally ducked any and all pointed questions. She spun on her heel, determined to talk to the commander again.

Even after she cornered him again, the man was as slippery as a wet fish.

She finally decided to just scribble down that he was a workaholic.

She had to try very hard to keep from writing down 'infuriating' before 'workaholic.'

* * *

_Captain Dean Winchester_

Dr. Dale thought his brother was bad.

Commander Sam Winchester had _nothing_ on Captain Dean Winchester.

She searched the entire ship twice, the second time with help from her allies Dr. Harvelle and Lieutenant Castiel and she still couldn't find the elusive captain.

Finally, she threw her hands up in exasperation and plunked herself down at the largest window she could find, staring out at the nebulae the _Impala_ was currently exploring. Huffing out sigh, Dr. Dale started expanding on her findings until they were complete and she was just doodling.

The crew still didn't quite make sense. She needed to talk to the captain before she could ensure that this fragile, unbreakable misfit crew would fall together. They were clearly close knit, a family of sorts, but if there was even the slightest weakness in their captain, this ship would implode on itself.

Commander Winchester would work himself to a shadow, trying to help too many people at once.

Alpha shift…would probably blow up the ship after Commander Winchester burned out. Less facetiously, the surprisingly fragile geniuses would probably end up crammed into dusty corners of forgotten Starfleet labs, considered too eccentric to keep on a star ship.

Commander Harvelle would get herself killed on an away mission in a desperate attempt to protect everyone she assumed responsibility for.

Commander Ash would stick his itchy fingers into a puzzle too big and dangerous for him.

Lieutenant Castiel would become more and more introverted in a cold world that rarely paused to consider the quieter, unique individuals.

Commander Singer would never come out of engineering, eventually losing the softer side of his personality that allowed him to mentor every person in his engineering department.

Dr. Harvelle would take too many deaths personally and break down.

So. Where was the captain?

* * *

"What are you going to report?"

Beth Dale nearly jumped out of her skin and couldn't suppress a small shriek of surprise.

She glanced up from her cross-legged seat on the floor.

Captain Dean Winchester, handsome and charismatic. An academic and tactical genius in his own right but definitely a wild card as well. Starfleet Command constantly complained that the captain refused to follow regulations when they hindered him in attaining a set goal.

"The truth," she replied, realizing that she was going to have to draw her conclusions from this short little conversation.

The captain leaned up against the wall. "And what is the truth?"

Dr. Dale watched his blank face carefully. "I don't know yet. I haven't met the lynchpin of this crew."

Captain Winchester blinked several times in surprise. "You've talked to Sammy."

An underestimation of his own importance. Interesting.

"Commander Winchester is an excellent emotional buffer and an integral part of this crew. But you are the heart of this crew," she concluded aloud. "And it's a good crew. You have nothing to fear from my report. But you already knew that, I think."

The captain shrugged. "I've been screwed over by Starfleet Command too many times to automatically expect fair treatment." His body language was very telling, expressive as he shifted, used one hand to illustrate a point.

This crew should not function. Their captain had aspects of every single command team member in his personality. He had his brother's over-dedication to work, Commander Ash's paranoia regarding Starfleet Command, Lieutenant Castiel's unique personality slant expressed in an elaborately extroverted façade, the list went on.

But he had the best qualities as well, held together with the unwavering courage expressed in his stellar mission record. Traits any half-assed psychologist would see and identify as a whole laundry list of problems became his greatest strengths.

Provided of course, he wasn't warped by life and its travails.

That was where his crew came in. She had heard it in every conversation she'd had about Dean Winchester. The man had faults, everyone knew that. And they helped out, they worked together at supporting everyone.

Much like_ Enterprise_, she reflected. That was probably why the crews got along so well. Additionally, she realized, scribbling down another note, the two crews could help each other. She'd suggest they got shore leave together as often as they requested it.

Snapping her PADD cover shut, she stood abruptly. "It's been a pleasure, Captain Winchester. I assure you, Starfleet Command will have no room to complain about your crew's mental health."

And finally, finally, Dr. Dale got the last laugh.

Captain Winchester stood gaping at her and she cherished every second, knowing he would get his feet back under him in a minute.

"You sure you're a Starfleet shrink?" he asked as a way to regain equilibrium.

She swallowed a grin and nodded. "Fifteen years and going strong."

"Okay then," he offered her a hand up and flashed a disarming smile. "Anything else I can do for you?"

"Got a bar around here?" she asked. "I had to interview every single member of alpha shift."

The captain threw back his head and laughed whole-heartedly. It warmed Dr. Dale all over in a way she hadn't felt since her son died. Dean Winchester's laugh was a lovely sound and she was unreasonably proud of herself for prodding it out of him.

"We got a bar," he said with amused, deliberately poor grammar. "Come on. You can tell me horror stories about shrinking people and I'll tell you the real version of the tales Cas spilled."

And so Dr. Beth Dale was drawn into the _Impala_'s spell.

* * *

_I'm still working on the _Enterprise_ version of _Psych_, which promises to be rather funnier…you'd think it'd be the other way around, but nooo, the _Impala_ crew wanted to be the serious ones. Geez._


	2. Enterprise

I do not own Star Trek 2009 or Supernatural.

And yes, I know this is chronologically backwards, but I had the _Impala_ story finished a veeeery long time ago. Kirk and Spock were arguing with me and refused to let me finish the _Enterprise_ version. They _really_ didn't want to get shrinked. Eventually I told them to just suck it up and get over it. This is the result.

Psych [_Enterprise_]

* * *

"She's cute," Jim Kirk muttered to his CMO, flashing the pretty psychology intern a flirtatious smile. Irritably, Bones jabbed his commanding officer with a reprimanding elbow and stepped forward to shake the Starfleet psychologist's hand.

"Dr. Dale, welcome to the _Enterprise_," McCoy began smoothly, covering for his ogling idiot captain. The pleasant-looking older woman stepped forward to shake McCoy's hand. Dr. Beth Dale was wearing a soft blue pantsuit and sensible low heels, carrying a simple briefcase. She practically defined the word 'harmless.' And as far as McCoy could tell, she _was_ harmless. He'd done quite a bit of research into her background when he heard she was coming to inspect the _Enterprise_. You didn't spend every other weekend in the infirmary with an accident-prone Chekov and Sulu without picking up a few hacking hints.

Dr. Dale had an excellent record as a sensible, professional doctor of psychology and the few people she'd removed from duty deserved it. McCoy was also man enough to realize that psychology wasn't his forte, despite his skill at manipulating a certain infuriating captain. Having major depressive problems running through the crew of the _Enterprise_ could be potentially fatal and a check up was necessary. So McCoy had told his nurses to put the word out that the capricious crew members could cooperate with the doctor when she came to visit them.

Of course, the sweet smiles of his medical staff weren't reassuring, especially when a psych cheat sheet started floating around. At that point, he threw up his hands in despair and gave up. Dr. Dale might have a trying go of it assessing the _Enterprise_ but she was experienced enough see past the craziness.

McCoy was jerked out of his thoughts as Kirk gently kissed the hand of the flustered intern named Paula and Dr. Dale blinked in surprise.

Hopefully. Hopefully, she'd see past it.

* * *

Dr. Dale watched Captain Kirk closely. He didn't like her already and covered it up by flirting outrageously with Paula. Poor girl had her head completely turned within thirty seconds.

Commander Spock was staring at Dr. Dale like she was some sort of strange bug, vaguely interesting but repulsive at the same time.

And Dr. McCoy looked like he had just been propped up in front of a firing squad, rifles and all.

Interesting.

* * *

_Dr. Leonard McCoy_

The man was trying to be polite and non-confrontational but he clearly disliked being under the microscope. Doctors made the worst patients, after all.

Eventually he gave up the charade of politeness and reverted to the abrasive, in-charge persona he used daily. Brutally honest and hiding a deep-seated resentment towards his wife, the CMO had traded booze for work. Dr. Dale had a hard time getting anything out of him and prodding at him for information on the rest of the crew had been her most successful tactic. Dr. McCoy immediately jumped to defend the captain or anyone else she asked about although she was pretty sure he knew that she knew what he was doing.

It was a good thing she liked mind games.

Dr. Dale walked out of that interview a little drained but reasoned that if the CMO was that difficult, the rest of the crew couldn't be that bad.

Famous last words.

* * *

_Commander Montgomery Scott_

"Excuse me, can someone tell me where Mr. Scott is?" Dr. Dale called into the cavernous engineering section. She hadn't been on a new Constitution class ship before and it was quite an impressive sight.

Especially considering since this particular section of the ship should have been humming with people. Currently, it was deserted like the main street of an Old West town before a shoot out.

A strange chittering noise had her looking up to the top of a massive turbine. An odd little alien in a red Starfleet tunic and the knots of a Lieutenant-Commander easily spun a spanner in one hand and pointed deep into the bowels of the cavernous room with the other.

With a nod of thanks, she headed into the depths of engineering, Paula dogging her steps. It took them all of a minute to get totally and completely turned around. This time there was no helpful Lieutenant-Commander, just the soft hum of giant engines around them. "Is it me or is it warm in here?" Paula dithered nervously.

Dr. Dale peered around a corner. "It's warm in here. This is the engine room, after all."

_Half an hour later…_

"I thought engineering was the busiest department on a star ship?" Paula asked her professor.

"It is," Dr. Dale sighed wearily. Clearly the engineering department thought that if she couldn't find them, she couldn't assess them. Trying valiantly to keep from rolling her eyes, the psychologist remembered a small fact that had exiled one Commander Montgomery Scott to a barren Starfleet outpost. "Did I ever tell you about the beagle I returned to Admiral Archer, Paula?"

"Ye found it?" a thick Scottish burr demanded a few seconds later. "Where? When? An' what condition was the wee beastie in?"

Dr. Dale had to swallow a victorious smile. Admiral Archer was still irritated at Commander Scott for losing that dog. And while Dr. Dale had indeed presented a lost beagle she had found marooned on a remote outpost to the admiral in hopes it was the lost dog, she, like so many others, hadn't actually found the right animal.

Of course, Commander Scott didn't know that.

* * *

_Commander Hikaru Sulu _

The Japanese-American pilot was relatively easy to track down.

Getting him to talk was another thing entirely. She had been told Commander Sulu was personable, friendly and 'normal.'

She didn't see any sign of this normalcy.

When she found Commander Sulu, the pilot was buried in a very large pot of soil, rapidly discussing plant genomes and DNA results with a botanist. Where most people would have brought out a pair of trimming shears to nip off dead leaves, the commander easily sliced wilting vegetation with a rather large, very lethal-looking knife.

Finally managing to corner the man, she was confronted with a smooth, very blank face and bland, correct answers. She came to the conclusion he must have been a child genius, one of the difficult ones who were either pushed too hard or misunderstood. Perhaps both. It was very difficult to get him to talk to her at all, especially when he had clearly done his research.

She was seated beside a copiously pollinating, very pretty rosebush and her allergies protested violently. Politely, Commander Sulu kept handing her Kleenexes with a very faintly amused smile just touching his eyes. Next chance she got, Dr. Dale swore she was going to go through with that allergy inoculation she hadn't had the time for previously.

* * *

_Ensign Pavel Chekov_

The young Russian was a joy to be around and volunteered information enthusiastically. Too enthusiastically, in Dr. Dale's opinion.

So when he offered her tea, she smiled sweetly and refused. Paula accepted and suddenly developed a very amusing blue and purple rash. Chekov denied putting anything in the tea, wide-eyed and innocent. Every instinct Dr. Dale had said that Ensign Chekov was telling the truth as Paula ranted and raved.

Dr. Dale asked if he had put anything on the china handle of the cup.

Ensign Chekov's eyes flickered and then he drooped, caught like a kid in the cookie jar. "I may hev been interested in your reaction to something wholly juvenile. I apologize. It vill vear off in five minutes," the clever navigator admitted ruefully.

It was a well-played gambit. A lesser psychologist would have assumed the ensign was still a green wunderkind, harmless, childish and naïve. A closer look revealed a young man capable of hanging onto his sense of humour but very aware that the world around him was often a serious place.

And she had to admit, it was an excellent prank. Blue and purple were definitely Paula's colours.

* * *

_Lieutenant Commander Nyota Uhura_

A lovely, lovely lady, Dr. Dale concluded, and one who guarded her crew like a tigress. Lieutenant Commander Uhura answered all questions promptly, politely, thoroughly and honestly until Dr. Dale started probing about the rest of the crew. Then the lieutenant commander sat back in her chair, crossed her long legs just a little bit defiantly and clammed up.

Dr. Dale had heard about the last psychological exam. Lieutenant Commander Uhura had taken a pounding from the psychologist, who was determined to pick apart the personal relationship between herself and Commander Spock. The lieutenant commander had filed an official complaint after the session was complete, citing harassment and discrimination. This time around, Dr. Dale probed delicately about and when she got nowhere, backed off. There had been nothing in Nyota Uhura's manner to concern Doctor Dale. Perhaps she would have more luck with Commander Spock. Men tended to be less emotional about such sensitive topics and while it wouldn't be an easy conversation it couldn't possibly be any harder than asking the communications officer, who smiled and answered and said absolutely nothing at all in her words.

At least Dr. Dale got an excellent guitar lesson out of the session.

* * *

_Commander Spock_

Evidently Dr. Dale was wrong. Commander Spock, like most of his Vulcan brethren, understood the necessity of a psychological examination. Like most of his Vulcan brethren, he did not understand why _he_ needed one. A brain scan down in the infirmary should suffice to determine his mental health.

And unlike most of his Vulcan brethren, the commander was most definitely not interested in discussing his personal, _emotional_ relationship with Lieutenant Commander Uhura. He was also not interested in discussing the captain. Or any member of the crew. He had not observed any mental difficulties and the crew members under his charge knew him well enough now that when they suffered from an emotional issue, they notified him of its existence and sought out Lieutenant Commander Uhura or the captain if Commander Spock could not provide a satisfactory response.

It was more than a little annoying to see that Commander Spock had read up on her profession and attacked the issue just like one of his mathematical equations. If symptoms A and B crop up, then solution C must follow. Human emotions weren't that logical. Of course, explaining that to a Vulcan was nigh on impossible. Finally, she just gave up and made a note to mention it to Captain Kirk. Perhaps he would have better luck explaining to Commander Spock that emotions were illogical and needed to be dealt with in a sometimes illogical manner.

* * *

_Captain Jim Kirk_

Baffled. That was Dr. Dale when she finally went to track down Captain Kirk. Usually by this point in the interview process, she had some sort of handle on the crew. _Enterprise_ seemed to be tacked together like a spider web, crew members only briefly brushing up against each other as their duties collided.

Finding Captain Kirk was surprisingly easy. Getting to talk to him was ridiculously difficult. The man was accessible but always had someone demanding something or other from him. He had the patience of Job when it came to his crew and it seemed that they took advantage of that. The holes in the _Enterprise_ web started to fill as Dr. Dale trailed after him like a lost kite.

When she finally managed to nail him down, it was on his terms – after shift, in a darker, more intimate corner of the _Enterprise_ rec room. He was ready and waiting for her. The lazy, slouched posture and the hooded eyes would have conveyed a relaxed image to less experienced eyes. Instead, Captain Kirk wore the nonchalant attitude like thick plate armour. Dr. Dale worried him, she realized, and quite frankly, if his past with Starfleet psychologists was her experience in his place, she would have been worried as well.

Captain Kirk was the anomaly to end all anomalies. High profile, tragic history, his respect had to be earned (that was the polite translation for 'rebellious as hell'), charismatic and powerful. Anyone who commanded such loyalty in subordinates, equals and superiors like he did would be powerful. She imagined there would be little he couldn't achieve if he put his mind to it. An individual such as Captain Kirk could be a very terrifying thought if he chose a dark path.

But that thought skipped past her even as she sat down to talk. The bridge crew wouldn't have defended each other or their captain as fiercely as they did if Captain Kirk was anything other than a gifted, principled, dedicated young commander. As they made small talk and Dr. Dale let herself enjoy the captain's company, she realized that if a situation ever arose where James Kirk spun out of control, his crew would effectively serve to pull him into line – whether they did it themselves or the sheer principle of "these people trust me" kept the captain from insanity.

It was a fine line to walk but brilliance was rarely safe, she thought as she sipped her tall lemonade. If she had to make a comparison, it was like fire – warming, enlightening, essential to life but oh-so-deadly if allowed out of control. Still, Dr. Dale wasn't worried and she said so out of the blue, causing the captain to sit back and reassess her.

Then she spotted a very dazzled Paula being swept by on a charming pilot's arm and raised an eyebrow. "I take it back," she commented. "I'm very concerned. My intern might not leave with me when I move on to the _Impala_."

Captain Kirk choked on his beer. "You're headed to the _Impala_ next?"

"Yes, why?" Dr. Dale asked, curious.

He shrugged and his bright blue eyes gleamed with mischief.

Maybe it would be wise for Paula to start her thesis research back on the star base while Dr. Dale assessed the _Impala_.

"Why are you going to pass us?" he asked neutrally, having finished reading her report in surprisingly little time.

Dr. Dale settled into her chair. "You mean why am I passing you with flying colours, unlike your last assessment."

The captain shrugged.

"Mostly? Because it's what I perceive to be the truth. I see no reason to bring any prejudices I might have onto your ship. You deserve the score I gave. Certainly, this ship isn't normal, not by a long stretch. According to the book, Commander Scott isn't linear enough and Commander Sulu doesn't share his emotions in a healthy manner, at least not to me. Ensign Chekov is by all accounts too young to be in a high-pressure situation like this. Lieutenant Commander Uhura and Commander Spock are in a relationship that is frowned on by Starfleet. Dr. McCoy is either a workaholic or an alcoholic."

Captain Kirk bristled defensively and she smiled gently at his instinctive response. "That right there is why it works." She imagined it wasn't often that someone managed to confuse the perceptive man in front of her.

"Pardon?"

Dr. Dale sipped from her lemonade and nibbled on a pretzel. "You. You are the linchpin. The crew needs you, you need the crew. As long as this mix of people remains balanced and you lead them, I don't think you'll experience a personnel problem you can't overcome." When he continued to blink blankly at her, she drained the lemonade. "That's a compliment, in case you were wondering. Have a good night, captain."

To her amusement, in the morning Paula was treated with utmost respect and friendly professionalism by Captain Kirk, which to be perfectly honest disappointed the intern. Paula disappeared in a harmonious chime, off to the star base. She'd probably sulk, as she had argued passionately when Dr. Dale said she wasn't coming with the good doctor to the_ Impala._

And as Dr. Dale finalized her _Enterprise_ report, the look of approval on Captain Kirk's face regarding the decision about her intern told her she'd made the right one. If Captain Winchester was anything like his _Enterprise_ counterpart, Paula would be swimming in male pheromones and of no use whatsoever.

Dr. Dale was pleasantly surprised to find out that she was treated with every cordiality by every single _Enterprise _crew member she encountered until she stepped up to the transporter pad. The outrageous Captain Kirk helped her up and planted a gentlemanly kiss on the back of her hand. "Return whenever you feel the allure, dear lady," he teased with a wink and she rolled her eyes in mock-exasperation. "We shall look forward to psych exams as long as you grace us with your presence."

She let a laugh ripple out as Commander Scott's eyes widened in horror, Dr. McCoy immediately popped out a tricorder to scan his captain for some sort of illnesss, anomaly or perhaps alien possession and Commander Spock closed his eyes briefly in what had to be complete and utter despair at Captain Kirk's very skewed sense of propriety. "Don't get into trouble you can't get out of," she replied in a motherly fashion with a wave as the transporter swirled her off to the _Impala_.

The _Impala_ couldn't be any worse than the _Enterprise_, could it?

Probably but in her professional experience, Dr. Dale experienced less stress if she was an optimist.


End file.
